


22:26

by sparkagrace



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkagrace/pseuds/sparkagrace
Summary: “I cried in the dressing room after the flower ceremony.” Scott confesses into the dark.Post-Sochi.





	22:26

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was originally a scene I had written for _love languages_ but it didn't really fit so I took it out. But I didn't want to get rid of it entirely so I ended up expanding it and this is what happened.

 

For four glorious minutes, he thinks that they maybe actually pulled it off. For four minutes, he lets the muscles in his legs burn with victory as he sees the world record after their score and the ranking. He can already imagine the weight of the gold medal around his neck.

 

For four minutes.

 

He’s backstage with Tessa moments later when Meryl and Charlie take the ice. Tessa is humming beside him as she tries to take her mind off of the TV screen in the mixed zone. Scott is very aware of the cameraman standing two feet away from them; a huge lens trained on the two of them to catch their reactions to their rivals’ results.

 

When Meryl and Charlie’s score comes up, his stomach drops. He catches eyes with Tessa; her jaw tenses as she looks back at him. He can see every emotion that he’s feeling reflected in her eyes. Hurt, anger, disappointment, the immediate what-ifs.

 

He remembers the camera filming them and knows their reactions are probably being broadcast live around the world so he shrugs and pokes his tongue out. Plays his role as the joker. Acts like it’s no big deal to him. _Oh well. Good game. Maybe next time._ He tries to let the tension roll away from his body but he’s on fire. Tessa turns away from the camera, offers him a tight smile and her hand, and then they walk away to get ready for the venue ceremony.

 

Scott wants to talk to her but he doesn’t know what he can say. He can see the steely gaze settle in her eyes and he knows he’s lost her. She won’t say anything now; not until they’re completely alone. She’ll play along and be the model Canadian. She won’t complain or make a snide comment or even look upset. She’ll smile and congratulate the Americans and play up the idea of ‘friendly competition’ to the press. They’ve done it off-and-on the last four years anyway. They know what it’s like to come second to their training mates.

 

Tessa is an expert at keeping it professional. Moreso than Scott, who can’t help but express every emotion he feels. He gets into a lot of trouble for it. Sometimes it works in his favor; more often it doesn’t. This would be one of the times it wouldn’t be a good time to do it. So he keeps his mouth shut as best he can while they wait for the venue ceremony to begin.

 

*

 

He knows what silver feels like. They’ve had silvers before.

 

Not at the Olympics.

 

The fucking Olympics.

 

Four years of hard work rendered useless in four minutes.

 

The Olympic silver hangs differently. Heavy. It drags him down.

 

They already had one silver from the team event, which had been a small disappointment, but it was the inaugural event and so the silver wasn’t too shabby. They would still be in the history books. More importantly, some of his team mates had never had an Olympic medal before so seeing the joy in their faces lifted him up and made it worth it. It wasn’t that medal they were defending.

 

They stand on the podium, clutching hands and smiling until their faces hurt. Tessa’s quiet but she’s trying her best to keep her smile and wave for the cameras. They joke around a little, enough to try and get their minds off the Americans next to them, try to focus on the sight of their families in the crowd. They’re going to be able to get about thirty minutes of family time tonight after the medal ceremony before they have to go back to the Athlete’s Village.

 

The flags go up and the music swells, and Scott thinks the sound of the Stars and Stripes is going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

*

 

He doesn’t get a chance to _really_ talk to Tessa about it as they are ushered off the stage after their photo call. They already have a list of media interviews booked in for the rest of the games, families to see and so far he hasn’t really had time to _think_.

 

They sit like statutes in their press conference and mechanically recite their soundbites to the point where Scott can’t even tell if he’s speaking anymore. It’s muscle memory at this point. Between interviews, Scott notices how Tessa will only talk about anything else; the weather, plans for food, whether her Canada hat is messing up her hair.

 

“Are you doing okay?” He asks again once as they finish the last interview and are heading to Canada House to meet their families.

 

“Yeah.” Her reply is clipped and she doesn’t look at him.

 

“Tess…”

 

“Can you stop asking if I’m okay? Everyone keeps asking me. I’m _fine_.” Tessa doesn’t often snap at him like that. Usually he’s the one with the short temper and sharp words, so he’s taken aback. She mumbles out an apology and then tells him she’s meeting her family and she’ll check back with him later, leaving Scott standing outside Canada House on his own.

 

*

 

He’s lying down on his bed back in the Athlete’s Village alone in the dark after the first onslaught of their media obligations were complete (until tomorrow, at least). It’s been a long day so when he made it to his room, Chiddy patted him on the back and headed to a party at Canada House, giving Scott some space to process. Scott managed to pull off his sneakers and Canada jacket before collapsing onto his bed and refusing to move.

 

He pinches his eyes closed and goes over the steps of their short dance. Hums the music in his head and tries to pinpoint where exactly they lost points (or maybe didn’t get the points they deserved). He’s already heard the rumors about the underscoring and the vote swapping and the Finn step sequence being perfect. The whispers have been following them around from the dressing rooms, to the ice, to the media boxes.

 

And they _were_ perfect. He had felt it in his bones the minute the music began, as the two of them hit every beat, more in sync than they’d ever been.

 

He’d dance it again right now for the judges. Over and over. He would dance it again and again and again, until his feet were raw and the ice had melted. He’d lift Tessa up, over and over and over, until his arms couldn’t lift her up anymore.

 

He knows what happens next. More press conferences. More interviews. The _it’s an honor to compete at the Olympics at all_ bullshit. He wants to tell them about everything they’ve been through over the past year.

 

The way Marina’s attention gradually shifted solely to Meryl and Charlie until he and Tessa were basically coaching themselves for the last few months. The way Tessa tensed whenever she heard Marina cheer for their rivals or tell them that no, she wouldn’t be there at Canadian Nationals because the US Nationals were later that week.

 

Marina isn’t here, of course. She’s with Meryl and Charlie celebrating and calling them her babies. Telling them how their hard work finally paid off like she did four years ago to two skaters emblazoned in Canada gear.

 

Scott thinks about how long he hadn’t believed Tessa when she confided in him about Marina’s priorities. How he’d brushed aside her concerns and told her that Marina’s always been in their corner. Maybe if he’d believed her sooner, they wouldn’t be in this mess. They wouldn’t have wasted the last four years.

 

He feels like an asshole. Most people would be ecstatic to be on the podium, but most people don’t know how it feels to hand over their gold. Once you’ve had a taste of it, it becomes yours. They were the defending champions who had the hopes of a nation riding on their shoulders. They _lost_ the gold; served it up on a silver platter to their long-time rivals on the biggest stage in the world.

 

There’s soft knocking on his door and he doesn’t even look up, preferring to sit still in the dark rather than move. The lamp is too far away from his reach and he hasn’t had time to clean up around his side of the room so he’d probably trip immediately if he got up.

 

“It’s open,” he calls, assuming it’s going to be Patrick either checking on him or trying to drag him out. The door clicks open and Scott can see the light from the hallway filter into the room.

 

“Scott?”

 

It’s not Patrick. He lifts himself up onto his elbows to see the soft silhouette of Tessa in the doorway haloed by light.

 

A true angel.

 

“I’m here. Come in.” He says. He hasn’t forgotten their earlier incident but he’s not in the mood to fight. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but being in the company of Tessa isn’t like being in the company of friends or family or anyone else he needs to entertain. He can be himself with Tessa; always has been able to.

 

It’s dark again when she closes the door to make her way towards him and he hears her curse when she steps on something. He definitely needs to clean his room.

 

“I think I kicked your water bottle,” Tessa says with a groan.

 

“You okay?” he asks. “I’m on the left by the window.” He sees a glow from her phone, illuminating the way to his bed and he holds up a signaling hand.

 

“Can I hang?” she asks in a whisper. “Kaitlyn keeps asking me to come out with her and she’s still in the room so I needed to get out.”

 

Scott shifts and lets Tessa squeeze in beside him. He feels her shoulder press up against his. Her hair is still damp from a shower and her Canada gear has been abandoned in favor of a threadbare pair of sweats she’s had for at least three years.

 

“I wish these beds were bigger,” Tessa complains. “I hate sleeping in a twin.”

 

“Yeah, it makes me feel like I’m twelve again,” he says. Aside from when they’re at competitions, the only twin he usually sleeps in is in his old childhood bedroom. “I wonder how some of those hockey players fit into these.”

 

Tessa chuckles lightly and he feels relief flooding his senses. She’s not mad and that’s good.

 

As if she can read his mind, she turns her head to look at him. “I’m sorry for earlier.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not. You didn’t deserve that. If anything, you’re the only one who knows how I feel. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

 

“I’d rather you take it out on me than anyone else.” He tells her. “It’s fine. I already forgot about it.” She presses her nose into his shoulder by way of thanks and squeezes his hand.

 

“Damn, your hands are cold!” He complains, pulling her hands onto his chest and rubbing them against his to warm them up.

 

“Are you going out tonight?” She asks tentatively. A few days ago, they had both planned to celebrate in Canada House with the rest of the team after the free dance but now he can’t think of anything he’d like to do less; even if it is commiserating. He shakes his head.

 

“No, Patrick will be gone for a while though so if you want to hang here, you can.”

 

They sit in silence in the dark, listening to the noises from other athletes outside. The alarm clock on his bedside table reads 22:26 and, while the games are over for the day, there’s still enough hubbub around the Village to remind him that everything else around them is moving on.

 

The world is still turning while they sit in static.

 

Scott knows he should get over himself. Pull himself up by the proverbial bootstraps and get on with his life. It hasn’t been an easy career, they’ve had their fair share of disappointments over the years, but this is different.

 

_It’s only a hockey game. It was only a stumble. It’s only a few points off your season’s best. It’s only a silver._

_It’s only the Olympics._

 

Scott used to think that the day he found out he and Tessa wouldn’t be going to Turin had been the worst thing that could have happened to them at the Olympics. He remembered the way that devastation reverberated through his body and the disappointment and anger grew within him for weeks; his limbs heavy with the weight of everyone he had let down. As if he would never be able hold himself up let alone Tessa. Everything they had worked for—and they had worked _so_ hard to get this far—and it still hadn’t been enough.

 

They had come through it then. They had gotten to Vancouver and their penance had been served. The gold medal in their home country had been a long awaited reward for the heartbreak they’d suffered four years before.

 

The road to Sochi had been littered with more difficulties and disappointments, but part of him always thought that they could battle their way through it. That, when it came to it, the tallest podium would be waiting for them in the end.

 

He and Tessa lie in silence, listening to the sounds from the hallway and watching the lights flash outside. The curtains haven’t been drawn yet but neither seems bothered by it. Scott can hear Tessa sigh softly next to him. She opens her mouth to say something but then closes it, swallowing it down and biting her tongue.

 

“I cried in the dressing room after the flower ceremony.” Scott confesses into the dark.

 

*

 

It’s the first time since the results he’s been on his own, after all the smiling for the cameras, the interviews in the mixed zone, and having to watch Marina celebrate with Meryl and Charlie. He clutches Tessa’s hand the whole way through the medal ceremony, feeling the comfort of her body next to his. They end up with a poncho instead of a flag and she lights up for the first time since the results. When she laughs he wants to hug her again so he can sync his heartbeat with her’s and feel them beat as one. Once they finish the victory laps, they are quickly ushered towards the changing rooms.

 

Scott felt Tessa’s hand finally pull away and watches as she steps towards the female dressing room. He wants to shout after her but isn’t sure what to say. For a split second he thinks maybe he has said something because Tessa turns to catch his eye and flashes him a small smile before disappearing into the changing rooms.

 

As he stares at the vacant space she occupied, Charlie brushes past him with flowers in his hand and an American flag draped across his shoulders. He stops and gives Scott a loopy grin. Scott knows that feeling; Charlie looks like he was about to burst with happiness. His eyes are wild and he chuckles in disbelief, offering up a closed fist to Scott.

 

“Great job, bud!” He says to Scott, friendly as ever. Scott wants to punch him for a micro-second but realizes that Charlie deserves to feel this happy. It’s an once-in-a-lifetime feeling and Scott won’t rob his friend of that.

 

After all, they are still friends. Mostly.

 

“Congratulations!” Scott meets his fist with Charlie’s, tapping it lightly. “You must be thrilled.”

 

“I can’t believe it!” Charlie runs his fingers through his hair, damp with sweat. Scott opens his mouth to reply but someone calls Charlie’s name and he’s gone in an instant. Scott walks into the dressing room looking for his Canada gear and aching to take off his skates. He sits on the bench by his locker and tries to breathe as he undoes the tight knots and pulls off his skates, discarding them by the bench. It’s still too noisy for him to really think but it’s an improvement from the insanity by the rink.

 

He spots a couple of the other skaters walking around, whispering to each other in their native languages and making phone calls. Scott doesn’t want to be here, staring at his Canada gear, thinking about how he was meant to be representing his country and defending their gold, and how it’s all slipped away.

 

He slams his locker shut, heads past the showers and into a bathroom stall. He locks the door behind him and presses his forehead on the cool tile.

 

It’s quiet here.

 

He takes a deep breath in but when it comes out, it’s strangled and he can feel hot tears welling up. He doesn’t want to cry about coming in second. He’s 26 years old; he shouldn’t be a sore loser.

 

Once they start, he can’t stop. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, feeling them dampen and his eyes sting. He hates everything about Russia. Hates that he can’t read half the signs in restaurants, hates how he’s never sure if someone is yelling at him when they speak to him in Russian, hates how fucking cold it is (and he’s Canadian so he knows about cold). He promises himself he’ll never come back here. It’s not like Vancouver or Nice or Ljubljana. There are no good memories for him here.

 

He stays in the stall for ten minutes, staring blankly at the white tiles while he recomposes himself. He needs to get changed and head to the press conference. He’s already irritated Tessa by being late to breakfast this morning and he doesn’t want to upset her any more than he already has.

 

Tessa’s waiting for him outside the changing rooms when he finally emerges. Her presence startles him at first and he’s momentarily annoyed that she’s there, especially since he’s still swimming in his own thoughts. But then he looks at her face, green eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed red and he knows.

 

It’s going to hit her too.

 

She doesn’t say anything; she can’t. He knows her too well. They’re both professionals but Scott can’t hide his feelings as well as she can. When the spotlight is on her, she’d never be anything less than professional. Her legs may be shot and she weighs a considerable amount less than him, but Tessa is built stronger than he is. She props him up more than he likes to admit. While he looks out for her on the ice, Tessa is the tougher one off of it.

 

This is one of those times.

 

She takes his hand and squeezes it twice. They’ve still got press to do. They’re not going to let Marina see how she’s destroyed them. They’re representing their beloved Canada and they’re not going to let them down by being anything less than grateful.

 

*

 

“I feel like an asshole for not being happy about it.” He tells her, turning his head to look at her.

 

“Me too.” Tessa replies. “I cried in the shower after I got back from the press conference tonight.” He pulls her close and hugs her tightly. She lets out a shaky breath and can sense the tears prickling behind her eyelids. “I can’t do anymore press, Scott. I don’t want to plaster a smile on my face. I feel like we let everyone down.”

 

“We didn’t, Tess.”

 

“My mom kept telling me ‘it’s okay, we love you’ and I just couldn’t say anything. I felt so…” she doesn’t need to complete it; he already knows because his mom said the exact same thing and it broke him inside.

 

“Is it bad to say that I wish we weren’t so Canadian?” She scrunches her nose.

 

“Oof, better not let the press hear you say that. Tomorrow the headlines will be ‘Tessa Virtue: Canadian enemy’!” He jokes.

 

She lets out a small chuckle. “No, you know what I mean. I hated sitting there and saying how much of an honor it is to even be at the Olympics and how happy we are. Because I’m not. I wanted to win.”

 

“I know. I did too. My legs feel like lead. I don’t know how I’m going to skate at gala rehearsals.” He sighs as she cards her fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to go.” He lets his eyes close; content to allow Tessa to play with his hair. It’s comforting and reminds him of how his mom used to lull him to sleep after a bad day. 

 

Scott hears his phone buzz beside him and he turns it off. He doesn’t want any contact from the outside world right now. He would be happy to be holed up in this room for the rest of his life holding hands with Tessa.

 

“What is wrong with us? Why can’t we be happy for Meryl and Charlie? They were happy for us!” Tessa complains softly. Scott knows that it’s not particularly true. Their friendly rivalry after the Vancouver Olympics had quickly fallen apart. No more beer and hockey nights with Charlie, Meryl stopped finding him funny (if she ever did in the first place), Meryl and Tessa definitely stopped hanging out but that was due to other factors too. The atmosphere in Canton had changed, and not for the better.

 

“Maybe we would have won if I was still with Fedor.” Tessa muses aloud. Scott looks at her incredulously.

 

“Don’t say that!”

 

“Come on, you know that Marina stopped focusing on us after we broke up.”

 

“Yeah, Tessa, we totally lost the Olympics because Fedor dumped you for Meryl!” He replies sharply. Tessa prickles beside him and he feels her stiffen so his softens his tone and continues. “Sorry, I know it hurts. But Fedor has nothing to do with this. You’re better off without him. Besides Marina only gave up on us way after Fedor and Meryl started dating. A lot of stuff went down in the last four years, like Igor and that whole thing. It’s not down to one event.”

 

She doesn’t reply but she seems less tense.

 

“Hey, look, why don’t we allow ourselves to be shitty, petty people for one night? We’ll have a pity party and complain about everything; but _just_ tonight. Tomorrow we’ll go back out there and congratulate them and be happy about our medals, okay?” He suggests.

 

“Do we have to talk to anyone else?” Tessa asks.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Sounds perfect.” She sighs, but her contentment is short-lived as she lets out another sigh, deeper and frustrated this time. “Kaitlyn congratulated me and I felt like such a horrible person for not being happy. Kaitlyn and Andrew have worked so hard and they didn’t place but they’re still _so_ happy, while I’m here getting upset over two silvers. And I want to talk about it but I can’t talk to _her_ because it seems like in being ungrateful, and I’m really trying not to feel that way.”

 

“I know it’s disappointing, Tess. Everyone came out here to win.”

 

“But no-one else here _had_ won before _except_ us. Do you think Meryl and Charlie felt this way in Vancouver?” Tessa questions.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it was okay because they still had Sochi.” Scott shrugs. He’s not sure if he wants to start thinking about Meryl and Charlie right now.

 

“This was it, Scott. We kept telling people this was our last Olympics and now our legacy is a silver medal and possibly biased judging. I don’t want _this_ to be the last.” Tessa bites her lip.

 

Scott lifts his head up and narrows his eyes at his skating partner. “What are you saying?”

 

Tessa puts an arm over her eyes. “I don’t know. I know we had plans for after competing. You know, school and stuff. But maybe we could go for another four years? I think I could do four more, if we had to, if you thought so too?”

 

Scott knows that they’re treading on dangerous ground. Long ago they had decided that any decisions they made about their careers would be made together and over the course of several meetings. They promised that they would never make a decision in one singular conversation. Every avenue had to be meticulously researched and discussed before it was even brought to the table.

 

But Scott also knows that he would follow her to the ends of the Earth if she asked him to. There’s a shovel in his closet ready and available if she ever needed help burying a body. Anything she asks of him, he’s willing and pliant. And hearing her now—the longing and hope in her voice, asking him if he could go another four years, asking him to renegade on their plans for retirement—he would do it all in a heartbeat if it would make her happy.

 

He knows that he would agree if it was truly what she wanted, but he also knows that, no matter how sad and frustrated and driven he feels now, he has to be the strong one for them. Scott knows what the right answer to this is but he’s not sure if he wants to say it.

 

“Tess...” he starts gently. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “I think that whatever decision we make right now, when we’re feeling like this, would be the _wrong_ decision.”

 

As he says it, he can see the flicker of hope extinguished from Tessa’s eyes and he wants nothing more than to never see that happen again.

 

“Three days or three months from now, we might feel differently. We don’t want it to be three years down the line and then it’s too late.” He whispers trying to let her down as gently as he can.

 

“Right,” she agrees. “I know you’re right.”

 

“Okay?” He checks because he doesn’t want to give her an answer either way but he doesn’t want her to get her hopes up about retiring or PyeongChang when they’ve only just completed this quad (and barely made it out alive). Tessa’s a planner and she likes making lists so this train of thought needs to be nipped in the bud before they both end up on different scripts.

 

“Okay.” Tessa nods, more affirmative, and he can make out her long eyelashes in the shadows and the soft slope of her nose in the moonlight.

 

Scott rubs a thumb over one of her wrists and lets their fingers interlink. Outside the door there’s a huge cheer and Scott wants to disappear. He wishes he was back home already, even if it’s in another twin bed in his parents’ house.

 

“We have tours coming up,” Tessa reminds him.

 

“I don’t want to go back to Canton.” Scott knows Tessa isn’t going to disagree with him. “I’m done with Detroit.”

 

“We need a rink to rehearse in. You want to go to Ilderton or something?”

 

“No, no.” Scott shakes his head. He loves Ilderton and, while it’s poetic to go back to their childhood rink, they’ve outgrown it and he’s not ready to move his whole life back home quite yet (retirement or not).

 

“We could join Kaitlyn and Andrew,” she suggests.

 

“Tess, let’s not think about skating tonight, okay?” He asks. He can’t bring himself to think about getting back on ice right now, not when his legs have given up and his heart feels so heavy. She doesn’t reply but rests her hand on top of Scott’s and pats it gently.

 

There’s scraping at the door and the sound of mechanical whirring. The door opens, leaking light and noise from outside and Patrick appears in the doorway.

 

Scott and Tessa lift their heads to look at him at the same time. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes when he sees no lights on. “Kaitlyn said Tessa was here, I didn’t realize you were both asleep.”

 

“We were just hanging out in the dark. What’s up, Chiddy?” Tessa asks, friendly to let him know that he hasn’t really interrupted anything.

 

“I brought a pizza,” he says holding up a box as he ventures further into the room. He stumbles over something and Scott winces, knowing it’s probably his shoes or his water bottle again. He really needs to clean up his side. “Are you guys okay?”

 

“We’re having a pity party,” Tessa says. Her tone is friendly but there’s no invite for Patrick. It’s not that either of them don’t like Patrick, but tonight is just for them.

 

“If you guys feel like venturing outside, there’s a party at Canada House right now. But there’s pizza here in case you don’t want to.” Scott doesn’t think he’s that hungry but Patrick opens the box and it’s pepperoni so Scott’s stomach rumbles automatically in response. “I’m heading back to Canada House but I thought you guys might be hungry.”

 

“Thanks, man,” Scott says and pats his friend’s hand. He’s genuinely touched and Tessa reaches up to give Patrick a kiss on the cheek. She takes the pizza and Patrick pulls out two beers from his pocket and places them on Scott’s bedside table.

 

“You guys did well today so you need to celebrate with at least one beer. I’m proud of you both.” Patrick says kindly. He doesn’t linger in the room too long, sensing that Scott and Tessa need their time. When he leaves (avoiding the death traps Scott’s evidently littered around the floor), Tessa turns to Scott with a grin.

 

“We have good friends,” she says, handing Scott a beer. Scott lifts himself up into a sitting position and takes the beer, relieved when he feels the cold tin against his hand. Trust Patrick to make sure it wasn’t a lukewarm beer. He truly is a friend. He opens his can, relishing in the sound of the hiss, and waits for Tessa to open hers. He holds his can up and, even in the dark, he can see Tessa’s eyes sparkling.

 

“To us.” He toasts.

 

“To us.” She replies, hitting her can against his and taking a sip. Tessa settles against Scott’s headboard and offers him a slice of pizza. Scott loads an episode of _The Office_ on his laptop and the two of them watch, laughing at the jokes they’ve heard at least three times before, drinking their Molson beers and eating Scott’s favorite pizza.

 

Soon, Scott doesn’t feel like he’s at the Olympics at all. They could be in her apartment in Detroit, or in his parents’ basement, or in a hotel room in a different city while on tour. He doesn’t feel like they’ve just lost an Olympic medal. He ignores the glint of silver on his bedside table and focuses on the woman next to him instead; at his partner who’s been by his side over the last seventeen years. Over ballet and hockey and surgeries and bad skates and worse fights and heartaches.

 

And if this is the end, if this is how they go out, the silver isn’t so bad. Because what he’ll take with him when he leaves Russia is the roar of the crowd, the sight of his family in the stands, and the feel of Tessa’s hand in his as they sit in the dark and ignore everything else around them.

 

Tomorrow they’ll go back to being model Canadian athletes and answer questions they’ve answered a dozen times before. But tonight will just be theirs.

 

“You can sleep here tonight if you want.” Scott tells her when they’ve finished off the last of the pizza and their beers are long gone, when he can see her eyelids growing heavy. He thinks he’s going to end up scaring her off, which happens sometimes when they get so comfortable that they end up on the edge of something _else_ , but one of them will break the spell and disappear, leaving it hanging in the air between them and ignoring it until it fades into the background and like blades across the ice.

 

“Thanks.” She replies and tucks her body against his. It’s a small bed and neither of them will be comfortable or get the amount of sleep they really need for tomorrow, but Tessa’s room is far and, if Scott’s really honest, he doesn’t really want to be apart from her tonight. Together, like they’ve always been, win or lose.

 

*

 

Later, when the Olympics are over and Scott returns home to see the signs congratulating him and Tessa, the silver tastes less bitter in his mouth, and he’ll drive past the Ilderton rink and remember they still need rehearsal space. He’ll text Tessa with three words: _Marie and Patch?_

 

Three minutes later, he’ll get a message back and smile.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have at least two more fics (one one-shot and another multi-chapter) planned for these two but they're not yet in shape. I'm hoping that now this one is out there, it'll leave my brain and let me concentrate on the other two.


End file.
